No More Learning

There's nothing I can say but drifts you farther
From the one weighty matter. That very woman--
For I know well that you are praising Aoife--
Now hates you and will leave no subtilty
Unknotted that might run into a noose
About your throat, no army in idleness
That might bring ruin on this land you serve.

CUCHULAIN.

No wonder in that, no wonder at all in that.
I never have known love but as a kiss
In the mid-battle, and a difficult truce
Of oil and water, candles and dark night,
Hillside and hollow, the hot-footed sun,
And the cold, sliding, slippery-footed moon--
A brief forgiveness between opposites
That have been hatreds for three times the age
Of this long-'stablished ground.

CONCHUBAR.

Listen to me.
Aoife makes war on us, and every day
Our enemies grow greater and beat the walls
More bitterly, and you within the walls
Are every day more turbulent; and yet,
When I would speak about these things, your fancy
Runs as it were a swallow on the wind.

[_Outside the door in the blue light of the sea mist
are many old and young KINGS; amongst them are three
WOMEN, two of whom carry a bowl full of fire. The
third, in what follows, puts from time to time fragrant
herbs into the fire so that it flickers up into
brighter flame. _

Look at the door and what men gather there--
Old counsellors that steer the land with me,
And younger kings, the dancers and harp-players
That follow in your tumults, and all these
Are held there by the one anxiety.
Will you be bound into obedience
And so make this land safe for them and theirs?
You are but half a king and I but half;
I need your might of hand and burning heart,
And you my wisdom.

CUCHULAIN.

[_Going near to door.
_]

Nestlings of a high nest,
Hawks that have followed me into the air
And looked upon the sun, we'll out of this
And sail upon the wind once more. This king
Would have me take an oath to do his will,
And having listened to his tune from morning,
I will no more of it. Run to the stable
And set the horses to the chariot-pole,
And send a messenger to the harp-players.
We'll find a level place among the woods,
And dance awhile.

A YOUNG KING.

Cuchulain, take the oath.
There is none here that would not have you take it.

CUCHULAIN.

You'd have me take it? Are you of one mind?

THE KINGS.

All, all, all, all!

A YOUNG KING.

Do what the High King bids you.

CONCHUBAR.

There is not one but dreads this turbulence
Now that they're settled men.